June 3, 2013

Weeping for my trees.

I will miss your gentle whisper when the wind blows.
I will miss the comforting green.
I will miss your strong trunks and the arms you lifted to the sky.
I will miss your strength and your vibrant beauty.
I will miss your vitality.

It always seemed to me as though you were reaching up to God,
and it gave me hope that all was connected and continued.
The spark of life and substantiality you represented meant a lot to me.
The green touching the blue sky, bulwark between the ugly grey cement.
When I looked as you I felt a sense of peace.

I know it had to be done, but as I listened to the saws cutting out your heart and the roots that were causing the problem, how I wish you could have been saved. How I wish I'd kept you properly trimmed. ...So that your spirit could have continued.

Maybe it does. Maybe your souls do not die. Maybe in another life, another time, another place, my trees, my beautiful trees, will return to grace someone else's garden.

But for now, it just feels like one more big loss to be added to the list.